We started the hunt across the street from a closed German beer hall. Those inclined to drink beer were salivating. Luckily someone brought real beer for a change. We took off into the tick, mosquito infested woods constantly being fooled into running onto private property, then being lead back onto public lands. By next week those land barrens will have big fences and rottweilers.

We hit the civilized Mohawk bike trail for a couple hundred feet before trail went back into the bush for some BVFC hashing. The hares kept us within 80 feet of the Mohawk river for the next mile. The careful part was that the hares had us 80 feet up on a cliff that was mostly under-cut shale. The second most dangerous feet was that laurel had a habit of getting in the middle of your legs and causing you to trip. Mcavity ended up with some serious rug burn.

The only thing that kept us from falling off the edge was forward momentum. Dirtbag, and Macavity were leading the front running bastards and Poptop, Astro and willy kept laying trail arrows for the walking crowd of; Lickalotofpuss, Chum, Touchdown Jesus and AHH (AHH said something about his pussy hurting him so he couldn't run today but that I might have lost something in the translation).

1 mile of running 80 feet from water on a day that was 120 degrees and the hares did not get us wet, Bastards.

Mcavity took off up a 100 foot hill to find a YBF at the top. Dirtbag followed closely behind so he could critique the hares penmanship. In an unpresidented move dirtbag did not run through the false trail but instead ran back down the hill back to the rest of the group who were busy laying arrows and scouting true trail.

The Hares are big fat liars. They left a sign on trail to warn us about turning on powder. Then in the most opportune moments they stayed on the bike path anyway. Luckily none of us ran up the obvious creek bed looking for the hares to have turned on powder, Bastards.

They took us instead through a pack of tick infested prairie grass. The stingy hares left economical amounts of flour on the ground but the grass was up to your nipples, so finding trail was like looking for flour in a wheat field. The trail broke through to a kids soccer field. Thankfully the hares kept us more than 100 feet away from the adolescents, so none of us technically broke our court orders.

Even though it was 150 degrees the hares left us no water or beer, Bastards.

Dirtbag went to the first aid tent to get water in a bag for Laurel who was being carried by PopTop. Do you think that is why the dog shelter calls Laurel a rescued hound.

The walkers caught up and we were off again. Around the soccer tournament across 146 and back into the woods. We all missed the dead deer check. I don't know why the hares thought we would like to see Bambi's decaying mother. They must be a bunch of bastards.

Finally we did hit a water and Coors lite stop. The hares left a sign that said beer near and then only provided Coors lite, Bastards.

The hares were tired so they took off for the end. They had checks but they did not have the energy for making false trails. We ended up back on the bike trail. With 100 yards to go and the trail circling under a 100 year old train bridge. After 4 miles of true trail Dirtbag finally short cutted by staying on the bike path and running directly to the beer.